


Love in the Murder House

by fml (daryl_is_mine)



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: F/M, mentions of abuse, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daryl_is_mine/pseuds/fml
Summary: After a stressful abscond from Michigan, you and your mother move to California to escape your past. The day your mother buys the property, you meet a young blond kid named Tate. Unknowingly, you move into what is popularly called the Murder House. Will you survive?





	1. Chapter 1

"We'll take it," your mother grins, staring at the strange, talkative realtor. You roll your eyes, leaning on the door frame. You never wanted to leave your home in Michigan, but your dad got arrested and your mom wanted to leave the bad memories behind. You audibly sigh, causing your mother to give you a glare. "What is your problem?" She whispers, and you cross your arms.

"I want to go back home." 

"I'll leave you two alone while I grab the paperwork," the woman smiles as she awkwardly interrupts and leaves the room with her dog under her arm. 

"I know you don't like it here, but just give it a chance, Y/N," your mom groans. You still had friends back home, and you had a life there, too. They kept their promises and continuously texted you every day, telling you they missed you and wanted you back. You shake your head and turn around, walking upstairs to check if your room will at least be decent. The last thing you needed was an ugly bedroom.

You sigh as you feel your eyes starting to burn. Why did God have to give you such a shitty life? Hell, is there even a God? As you think to yourself, you open a random door, hoping it's the room you're looking for. Popping your head through the doorframe, you reach for the light switch. Once it turns on, you walk in, looking around and grinning at the dark walls. Your mother would never let you keep the walls this color, so you decide to enjoy it while you can, considering the fact that you love dark colors. Right as you are about to sit down on the bed, you hear the floor creak behind you which makes you jump.

"You seem like the type of girl to like some Kurt Cobain," a tall, attractive blonde guy says, standing in the corner of the room.

"I prefer AC/DC and Metallica, but I can dig Nirvana," you shrug and he chuckles, leaning on a dresser. "I thought the realtor said my mom and I would be the last visitors today?" 

"Well I heard that lady, I'm assuming your mom, say she'd buy the place so I'm guessing you really are the last people today," he smirks, causing you to smile. "What's your name?" He asks, walking towards you.

"Y/N, you?" 

"Tate," he grins, winking at the same time. Your heart skips a beat and you feel your cheeks redden. "Tate Langdon."

"Nice to meet you," you hold out your hand for him to shake, but instead he gently holds it up to his mouth and kisses it ever so carefully. 

"Likewise," he replies and walks over to your bed, sitting on it. "So, where are you from?"

"Michigan," you say, sadness evident in your tone.

"Why the hell would you go from the Midwest to Cali?" He snorts and you sit next to him.

"My dad got arrested and was sent to prison for domestic and child abuse."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he furrows his brows and sets his large hand on your leg. "How long will he be there?"

"He got nine years but you never know when or if he'll be let out on parole. Luckily he wouldn't be able to leave the state, but it's still scary," you sigh and he nods as he listens to you talk. "Where do you live?" You ask and he scratches his neck, almost as if he has to think about what to say.

"Somewhere near here," he says. Right as you're about to ask another question, you hear your name being called from downstairs. "You should probably go," he suggests and you nod, standing up from the bed. "I'll save your spot," he jokes and you giggle, walking back downstairs. 

"Yeah?" You shout, wondering where your mom is. "Where are you?" 

"In the kitchen," she yells back to you and you hurry towards where she said she is. "There you are. So, I was wondering if you'd like to pick your room?"

"I just did," you admit and she smiles.

"Okay, and would you like to paint it a different color?" She asks and you shake your head, not telling her what color it is. "Alrighty then, you can go look around again," she says and you rush back to your room.

"Back already?" Tate asks, holding something in his hand. He looks down and you realize it's your phone. "What's your passcode?" He asks, staring at the screen with a confused look on his face. 

"You look like you've never seen a cellphone before," you tease and sit on the bed. You type it in and hand it back to him, staring at his adorable face. He ignores your statement and he tilts his head like a puzzled puppy as he looks at your phone. After a minute of him curiously staring at the screen, he tosses it on the bed. 

"So why did you move here of all places?" He unexpectedly asks and you roll your eyes.

"My grandma lives here," you groan and he nods at your answer.

"Do you not like her?" He questions you and you shrug, not knowing how to explain.

"She's a drunk, and when she drinks she can get pretty vocal."

"Oh, I see. I feel like your family is full of shitstains, right?" He chuckles and you laugh with him, trying to hide the sadness in your eyes. "Hopefully I can distract you," he smirks.


	2. Chapter 2

It's been a week since you moved in and you have gotten to know Tate well enough to consider him a good friend. The both of you get along very well; better than any of your other friends. You feel like you can tell him anything. You have even told him about your antidepressants and what happened in your old house. Basically stuff you haven't told anyone else. Not even your best friends back in Michigan knew what exactly went down with your dad. The reason being is because Tate always knows what to say or do. If he sensed you didn't want to talk about it anymore, he'd change the subject to music or books. 

You rush up to your room after a long day at school and lay down on your bed. It's finally Friday and you have the weekend to yourself so you can catch up on your sleep. Westfield High is full of assholes, and you want to ask your mom to send you somewhere else, but you're nervous if she will tell you to suck it up. There is a group of girls that are especially tough on you. One seems like a bible thumper, always talking about Satan and God. Whenever you hear her speak, you can't help but snort. You seriously can't help it; after what you've been through, who would believe in a God? Hearing people say that God does so much good in the world pisses you off because you were abused until your father was put in prison. 

"How was school?" Tate asks, leaning on the doorframe. You look up, surprised yet glad to hear his voice. 

"Boring as all hell." He chuckles at your response and he walks over to you, brushing the hair out of your face as he sits on the bed. As you got to know Tate, you've developed a small crush on him. Maybe it's because he has the same depressing thoughts as you, or maybe it's because he is so nice to you. You don't really know. "To be honest, I'd rather be homeschooled."

"I think everyone feels that way," he sighs, laying down on the mattress. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he says and you turn towards him, leaning your head on your hand.

"What?" You ask, wanting to know what he's been thinking about.

"This is kinda out of nowhere, and you're basically my only friend, so I can really only ask you." He waits a couple seconds to think about how to word his question. "What do you think about love?"

"That's very broad," you furrow your brows, not knowing what he means. 

"I mean, like, what are your thoughts on 'unconditional love'," he uses his fingers as air quotes and you shrug.

"I've never fallen in love, so I can't really say. But I know my mom says she'll always love my dad, no matter what he did. Now that pisses me off," you admit and Tate slowly nods. 

"I mean, I've never understood why people love those who walk all over them." Maybe this is why you like him so much. You both have the same ideas and thoughts and can compare your beliefs. Yeah, you have friends back in Michigan, but you pretended to be happy all the time so they'd never know how you truly felt. Now you finally know what having a real friend feels like because you can be honest. "But I guess they call it falling in love because you get hurt in the end." You're surprised at what he said and you feel sad for a second, wondering how he would know. Since you're pretty nosy, you want to ask him, but he probably wouldn't want to explain. 

"I guess," you agree and he turns himself towards you, laying on his side. "I have a question for you, too," you admit and he smiles. "Why are you always here? I'm not saying I don't like seeing you, by the way. I'm just wondering," you jumble your words and he chuckles, setting his hand on your hip.

"I don't know, I guess I just like talking to you," he whispers which causes your heart to jump. You two sit in silence for what feels like eternity until he breaks it with a warm laugh. "It's funny because the previous owners had a daughter our age," he smiles to himself and looks at the blanket you're both laying on. "This was her room, too," he mumbles, looking back into your eyes. "I could see you two getting along. In fact, you two would probably get along too well," he chuckles and you can sense how he felt towards her. His smile is so big, and you feel a ping of sadness hit your heart. You know you shouldn't feel this way since you have a small crush and have only known him for a week. But, he just seems so sad and yet so happy talking about her. Now you start to understand that he liked her, and thats why he said falling in love hurts in the end.

"What was her name?" You ask and he sighs, Tate's eyes widening right before he finally whispers her name.

"Violet."


	3. Chapter 3

The feeling of a large hand rubbing your back forces your eyes open and you see Tate's dark umber eyes staring into yours. "Good morning," he chuckles, making you look at your digital clock that reads '12:38 AM'.

"Fuck," you groan to yourself and you stand up off of the bed. "I take my shower at nine," you mumble and he just smiles at you.

"What's so bad about that?" He sits up as you grab some pajamas and set them on your dresser.

"I like having a schedule," you quietly admit and start heading out of your bedroom but you stop in the doorway. "Stay there, I'll be right back," you promise and jog to the bathroom.

After the fastest shower you've ever taken, you rush back only wearing your towel and Tate smirks at you. "Hello there," he grins and you roll your eyes. "Sorry, sorry," he lays back and covers his eyes. "You better change fast or else I'll take a peek." Although you know he's just kidding, you quickly pull up your fuzzy pants and t-shirt. "You done yet?" He grumbles and you tug at his hands. "Let's go back to sleep."

"I have taken basically an eight-hour nap; I am wide awake." You sit back on your bed next to him not knowing what to talk about. Talking about Violet would make him upset, but you don't know any other topics. He lays on his side again and takes your hand in his, running his pale thumb over your soft skin. "I just want to talk," you grin and he reaches for your towel to dry your hair off. The feeling of him gently drying your hair makes your heart flutter; your liking of Tate is getting stronger and stronger the more you are near him.

"About what?" He asks and you shrug, not knowing what to say.

"You," you admit and he chuckles. Now that you think about it, you don't know a lot about him. All you really know is he likes Kurt Cobain and he's the same age as you, 17 years old. Yeah, the both of you have talked about your sanity and shit like that, but you don't know a ton about his life.

"What about me?" You shrug again. "You're nosy _and_ quiet; only you," he laughs once more and you stop him from drying your hair, setting your hand on his. "What?"

"I'm serious. I don't know enough about you," you say, looking at his adorable face until you hear a knock on your door. "What the fuck," you whisper, jumping into Tate's chest.

"Isn't it just your mom?" He quietly asks and you shake your head.

"She's at my grandma's for the weekend," you mumble and Tate stands up off of the bed, walking toward the door. "What are you doing?" You whisper and he shushes you as he inches closer to it. He opens the door and looks around in the hallway until he looks down and sees a note. You rush over and grab the note before he can read it and you feel your stomach drop. "Um, Tate?"

"What does it say," he grabs the piece of paper out of your hand and a rush of confusion and annoyance pours into you.

"Tell me about Violet and what the fuck this means." You point at the note that reads, 'Tell her about Westfield -Violet'.

"I don't know what that means," he defensively shouts at you and you can tell he's lying. "I swear," Tate tightly grasps at your shoulders, which will possibly give you bruises. This isn't the first time he's accidentally given you a bruise. The first time, you both were chatting on your bed and he pulled the blanket so hard, you fell off and hit your leg on the edge of your bed. He apologized so much, but he's not letting go this time.

Wanting to avoid an argument with your only friend, you brush it off for now. "You know what, we'll ignore this incident for the night, but I will ask you about this some other time." He sighs and releases his hold on you before you set the note on your cluttered wooden desk. In your head, you question how this Violet girl was even able to put the note by your door at this hour. "You know what, that's what I want to know about."

"What?"

"Violet," you say, sitting on the bed again and he groans. "Clearly she's important to you in some way or the other."

"I loved her," he admits and your stomach drops. You figured they dated, but knowing he loved her makes you sad because something obviously happened between them. "She broke up with me after something stupid that I did," he quietly continues and you immediately feel bad. "I mean, I can't blame her for dumping me, but I wish she let me have a second chance, you know?" You nod and he gives you a sad smile. "Scoot," he says and you quickly move so he can sit next to you. "Since I shared something, you have to," he looks at you and you bite your lip.

"Like what?"

"How about something about your dating life," he practically giggles and you blush. Luckily he can't really see it since your room is so dark with no lights on.

"I can't," you snort and he nudges your shoulder with his.

"Why not?" He presses and you look down at your lap.

"I haven't dated anyone before," you confess and you feel your cheeks get even hotter.

"Wait, really?" He asks, surprise evident in his tone. "I expected you to have dated tons of guys already," he laughs and you sigh. "I mean that as in, who wouldn't want to date you," he sweetly explains and you smile, extremely flattered at what he said.

"Well, I haven't," you look back at Tate and you can see the outline of a smirk forming on his attractive face. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on, tell me," you nudge him like he did to you before and he brushes the hair out of his face.

"I was just thinking how much I'd love to be your first."

 


	4. Chapter 4

The feeling of Tate's twitching hand resting on your hip causes you to wake up after a night of talking about random things. He told you about his only good childhood memories, the past residents of the house, and he talked about his favorite songs. You blush as you look back at his face and lift up Tate's arm so you can switch sides to face him as he sleeps. Slowly, you set his hand down back on your other hip when you notice a small smirk grow on his face while he moves his hands down to grip your butt. "Hey there, mister," you giggle as he nuzzles his face into your neck. "Good morning," your voice quickly gets deeper as you yawn and stretch your arms around him and he smiles. Surprisingly, he radiates a ton of heat, and you instinctively pull yourself closer. 

"You cold or something?" His raspy voice makes your insides tingle and he kisses your forehead as gentle as possible. You can't help but nod and he wraps his arms around you, kicking the blanket up to cover your legs. "Better?" You nod again and you can hear him sigh. "Damn it," he laughs in almost a whisper and you pull your head back to look at him.

"What?" The tone of your voice is practically a squeak and Tate just grins at you. "Oh come on."

"You're so cute, I swear to god," he studies your face and you feel your cheeks redden with embarrassment, so you look down at the sheets and avoid eye contact. 

"Shut up," your eyes roll as you awkwardly laugh, and you throw your leg on top of his. Soon enough, you're entangled into each other. You haven't been this happy in a while, and for some reason just sitting here with Tate is making you giggle like a little girl. You've had many crushes but nothing has made you feel so euphoric. Tate pulls one of his hands away from you so he can brush a loose strand of hair out of your face, and you can tell he's trying hard not to kiss you right then and there. You would make the first move,  _but_ you've never had your first kiss yet, so you don't know how to kiss anyone. To be honest, you really don't feel like embarrassing yourself in front of him since it would most likely be much more traumatizing than fucking up in front of someone else. He stares at your soft, pink lips which makes your heart flutter, but he can tell you're not ready.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," he tries to comfort you but you end up groaning. "What?"

"It is kinda embarrassing when you don't know what you're supposed to be doing," you let out a snort and play with his hand that just brushed your hair out of your face. Annoyed, he rolls his dark brown eyes and unexpectedly sets his hands on your cheeks, pulling you in for a soft kiss. His warm lips cause your heart to race and he pulls away, giving you a lighthearted smirk. "What?" You can't help but whisper in shock and he grins when he notices how confused you are.

"You're welcome," he chuckles. You push your lips back onto his, almost as if you're searching for something. His tongue licks your top lip for entrance and you allow him. He slowly pulls you up, forcing your legs to lie on both sides of his body as the both of you explore each other's mouths. Tate chuckles and lets out a moan as you accidentally brush against his member, causing you to pull away with reddened cheeks, and when he's about to ask you what's wrong, you hear the door open. "I thought your mom was supposed to be gone." You nod with wide eyes and his eyebrows furrow. "Stay right here, I'll go check who it is," he lifts you up off of his lap and gets off of the bed. 

"Wait," you say, reaching under your bed to find a baseball bat and you hand it to him. "Use this." All he does is give you a nod and he quietly sneaks out of your room, closing your door. What you don't know is that Tate sets the bat down on a nearby table, because he already knows it's Violet.

"What are you doing, Tate?" She quietly whispers, trying to make sure you can't hear her. He just stands in front of her, trying to study her face even though he already has every pore memorized. "I mean, come on, going after some depressed girl makes it seem like you have a type to go after," she gestures to herself and furrows her brows. 

"She's lonely." Tate tries to defend why he's with you, but she can tell he's just looking for excuses to hurt you.

"So was I and once I got involved with you, I killed myself. How have you not taken the hint?" His heart races at every one of her hurtful words. "You thought you were protecting me, but you hurt me the worst in the end. If you don't stay away from her, I will make sure she leaves this house for good." Violet disappears once you open the door and Tate quickly turns around to look at your worried face.

"Tate? You okay?" You can't help but walk towards him cautiously and he fakes a smile.

"I bet it was just the wind," he says. A sigh escapes your lips since you know he had enough time to actually check the house but he's still in the same spot that he would've left if he truly wanted to ensure your safety. "I'll go shut the door, okay?" You only nod to him and he rushes down the steps, trying to escape from another question. 

"Lord help me," you whisper for the first time in your life as you enter your room once again.


	5. Chapter 5

You've been skipping school for a few days and you somehow managed to make sure your mom didn't even notice. Tate helped you with making up excuses if she ever saw you at home and you thanked him for it with a few kisses here and there. He knew about the girls at school and how annoying they could be, so he listened to you rant and rave about them. But, there was a part of you that didn't trust him as much as you used to. He would always avoid your questions, freeze up if you mentioned Violet (even if you were talking about colors), and he would look behind himself constantly as if someone else were there. Not knowing how to get through to him, you kind of gave up trying. You figured he wouldn't tell the truth anyways, but there was also a part of you that thought he would. The inexperienced side of you was hoping he would never lie to you, but he'd already lied before. 

Tate never left your side since the night you received a letter from Violet. Different thoughts raced through your mind, like why was Violet in your house? Why was Tate not telling the whole truth? What the hell even happened between the two? Scary thoughts just repeatedly fought against each other until one day Tate read those thoughts on your face. "Y/N? You alright?" He asks, rubbing your shoulders as you stare at the countertop of the kitchen. Your mother wasn't home and she wouldn't be for another two or three hours, so you figured it would be nice to get out of your bedroom for even a little bit.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," you shook your head and he gives a short frown before faking a huge smile and picks up your phone.

"I've been feeling The Beatles lately," he grins, unlocking your phone and looking for your collection of all of the band's music. "Don't know why, but I think you convinced me to tolerate them more than before." Almost immediately, you snap, and your eyes start to burn at how quick he was to change the unspoken subject.

"Tell me." He almost drops the phone when he switches his attention from the screen to the tears forming in your eyes and the pain evident in your voice. "I'm sick and tired of this game, Tate. Tell me, please." He just stands there, watching over you, trying to think of something to say other than spilling out every goddamn detail he had been holding back for the two and a half months of being with you. But, you soon realize this silence is more painful than the lies you knew he was telling you. 

And so you kissed him.

He was taken aback, your phone dangling in his hand as your lips collided. You pull away, wanting to see his face but he pulls you back, tangling his slender fingers in your hair after he sets the phone back on the counter. Tate moans against your soft lips when you toss your arms around his neck and pull him down so you can reach him. Each kiss feels like it lasts an eternity yet you feel each other moving so quickly. You knew you were doing this to protect yourself. You were protecting yourself from the silence that would've lasted another hour, but now you were angry with yourself for even kissing him in the first place. Now, he may think that the more lies he tells the more kisses he shall receive. 

Tate picks you up by the waist and sits you on the counter, rubbing his hands up and down your sides and back. "Tate," you whisper and he groans back as if something has taken over him; as if Tate isn't Tate anymore. His hands slide to the button of your jeans and your heart drops. Oh god. He's going to try and sleep with you. "Tate, stop," you pull away but he pushes his lips onto yours almost immediately and pulls the button out of its grasp, your pants suddenly feeling much looser. "No," you squeal as you push your arms into his shoulders and he stops, giving you a look of betrayal, and you take this as an opportunity to scold him. "Now you know how I feel," you shout and he looks at you like a confused puppy.

"What do you mean?" His voice lowers and a deep anger growls in your stomach to be released but you stop yourself from screaming and hitting him. 

"What do I mean?" You ask quietly, giving him a blank stare. "I've been asking you to tell me what the fuck happened and to explain your past but you don't fucking tell me anything. You sit back, play some Cobain, and reread the same magazines. It's like you're trying not to forget something yet you really fucking want to. I ask you every day what you're thinking about and you say 'nothing,' and push me away. So think of that as an example of how it fucking feels." You feel pleased with how you handled the situation, button your pants up again, and walk up to your room after grabbing your phone. Soon enough, you were crying yourself to sleep and didn't wake up for the rest of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw

The sound of your bedroom door creaking open practically gives you a heart attack and you feel a terror rise in you that you haven't felt for a long time. You stay laying on your side with your back to the door, pretending to sleep, and you look at the clock just a few inches from your face. 4:52 AM. A part of you thought it was just your mother checking up on you since she occasionally woke up extremely early, but for some reason, you couldn't look. Slow and heavy footsteps make their way over to your bed, but they stop once they get extremely close.

You silently wish for Tate to be in the bed with you since he gave you such a strong sense of safety just by his presence. Who knew some anxious dork could make you feel such relief? "Don't trust him," a soft, female voice whispers and you practically fight your blankets to sit up and look at whoever spoke, but there's no one. "He doesn't care about who you are," says another whisper. You think to yourself that it's just a dream, it'll be okay, but you know this is real. You know this isn't just a bad dream. "He only cares about what you are. A depressing teenage stimulant that can somehow suppress his anger and loneliness for just a few moments. Soon enough and you'll be in a tub full of your own blood or hanging by a scarf you once thought was fashionable." 

"Who the fuck are you?" You cry, now tears are streaming down your face as you try to find the face of the voice you're hearing. Why was this happening to you? 

"Tate's previous plaything." Out of thin air, a young girl about your age is standing at the foot of your bed. Her long hair practically covers her face, and you think to yourself if this is Violet. Maybe she can give you all the answers.

"Are you, um, are you Violet?" You ask, and she calmly nods while pulling out a cigarette from her pocket. 

"Want one?" She asks. You've never smoked but you heard it helps with calming nerves so you nod and she hands one to you, leaning over the end of your bed to light it once you put it in your mouth. Instantly, you start coughing, wondering how this can possibly help anyone. "Jeez, I guess you might be the first in this house to actually die of natural causes," she chuckles, lighting her own and taking a drag. You furrow your brows at her statement, wanting to know what she meant.

"Excuse me?" You ask as you trying not to stare at her, so you look at the cigarette in your hand and think about how you found another way to disappoint your mother. 

"What?"

"You said the first to die of natural causes?" She nods, but then she snorts.

"Shit forgot about mom." She grins and puts the cig in her mouth before she sits on your bed, just a couple inches from your toes. "Well, would you consider blood loss during birth a natural death?"

"I mean, I guess," you shrug.

"Whatever, that's not why I'm here. I'm just here to tell you that Tate isn't who he's letting on. He's a manipulative jerk with mommy issues and a kill streak. Don't trust him."

"Pretty sure you said that already." A subtle hint of annoyance rushes through you but you try and hear her out. "What was that note about? You said something about Westfield?" She sighs, then laughs to herself while shaking her head.

"That bastard. You know, I wanted him to tell you, but since it's obvious he will try his damnedest to avoid the topic, I'll just tell you. Lord knows what he'll do to ensure you'll never find out." A couple seconds pass in complete silence. Violet's face contorting and shifting as she thinks about how to say it but she rolls her eyes at herself and looks you straight in yours. "Tate Langdon is a fucking serial killer. In 1994, he killed 15 students and then he was shot to death by a SWAT team in this room." She's got to fucking kidding, right? If he were really dead, you wouldn't have been able to kiss him like that just 14 hours ago. "He'll say anything that'll make your knees buckle as he slowly drains you of the one thing you need in this house: your sanity. He's gonna tell you shit like 'I love you more than myself', and 'I'll do anything to keep you safe'. The one person you need saving from is Tate himself. If you can, just leave this house. You'll be guaranteed safety. But if you stay, you risk both you and your mother's lives." 

"No, I can't let her die, not after all that we've been through," you look at her with tears forming in your eyes and she shrugs. 

"Life sucks, but death ain't the most fun thing either. Get out of here," Violet presses and within a millisecond she's gone. Immediately, you sprint to your mother's room, opening her door and shaking her body to wake her up.

"Mom, mom, wake up, mom," you sob and she breathes in quickly before sitting up.

"What, what, I'm up, I'm up, what's wrong?" She asks now panicked once she sees how scared you are. 

"Mom, we need to go," you pull her hand and she follows your lead as you take her out into the hall. 

"Woah, woah, woah, what are you talking about, Y/N? And is that smoke I smell? Were you smoking?" She sighs and pulls your hand off of her wrist. "Go to sleep, I'll lecture you in the morning," she brushes you off and drags herself back to her room.

"What, wait, mom!" You yell and follow her into her room but she just ignores you.

"I said I'll talk in the morning," she says, sleepily pulling herself into her bed and under the covers. "Honey, I bet you just had a nightmare, go drink some tea and go back to sleep. You'll feel better," she yawns and closes her eyes, snoring immediately. 

"Not everything is solved with tea," you shout. Your mother has always thought that her 'homemade' tea was the solution to everything. Sick? Here's some tea. Tired? Here's some tea. Stressed? Tea. You were tired of it. You stomp back to your room, thinking about how you were going to convince your mother to get out until you see a familiar shadow on your bed.

"Hey, Y/N."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nsfw. kinda fucked up lmao ngl

"Tate," you whisper trying not to allow your surprise shake your voice. He sits on your bed with what seems to be an angry face and you just hope he's not mad at you. Who knows what he can do; apparently he's a killer and apparently he's dead, too. "Um, what's up? How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing marvelous," he growls and your heart races. What is he going to do to you? "So, it seems you met Violet." You nod and he sits up, patting the spot right next to him so you'd sit by him. Too scared to rebel, you hurry and sit next to him. Thoughts about somehow escaping rush through your head. Maybe you can sprint out of the door, maybe you can dial 911 somehow, maybe you should just scream for help. Isn't there a maid that lives here? "What did she say?"

"Hm?" You ask, distracted by your own thoughts and anxieties.

"What did she tell you," he leans in, trying to intimidate you and it definitely works.

"She just told me a couple things, nothing to worry about," you shrug. What were you supposed to tell him? That you discovered he is dead and killed a bunch of kids in the school you go to now? Or that he's technically not 17 anymore?

"Y/N, stop lying to me!" He shouts, standing up off the bed and throwing his arms.

"Shut up! You're going to wake up my mom," you whisper and he sighs.

"Just, talk to me," he nods and kneels in front of you. He's practically shaking.

"Tate, be honest with me," you mumble and he groans. "Did you, are you," you can't even ask if he's actually a murderer and you can't even ask if he's dead. It's such a ridiculous thing to ask someone. Now you start to realize how dumb it was to believe Violet when she said your friend was dead and has been dead for years.

"Just," Tate's voice wavers and he starts to sob, now intertwining your hands and resting them on your knees. "Y/N, I'll do anything for you. Just, tell me what she said, I can prove to you that what she said is a lie." A minute passes and you start bawling. 

"She said you're a school shooter and that you were killed in '94," you say, tears falling from your eyes. He's silent for a while, confusion and anger contorting his beautiful face. The face you've come to adore. The face you have seen everyday since you moved in here. The face of a boy you've slowly started to fall in love with. Tate has been depriving you of answers and honesty, but it's Tate; the guy that's been there for your tears and sarcasm and conspiracy theories. You can't believe you were convinced by some random girl before the boy you've been longing for to tell the truth. Sure, he's been distant, but you've been distant at some points too.

"I am not dead," he simply states with a small snort. "And I can prove it," he mumbles before kissing you. Your heart stops since you were expecting something much more violent and vicious. Definitely not a soft and innocent kiss. His pale hands gently cup your cheeks and he silently pulls away from your lips. "May I?" He asks, his voice rumbling in a way that makes you shiver and you nod. Almost instantly he hovers over you and kisses you hard, totally opposite from the previous. He moans as you somehow keep up with his unexpectedly rough yet slow pace and he tangles his fingers in your hair.

"Wait," you whisper into his mouth and he pulls back with hunger in his eyes. "Tate, I've never," you gesture in a way that allows him the knowledge of your virginity and he shrugs.

"I know," he smirks and you begin to feel insecure. "Y/N, if you're thinking I will stop just because you're a virgin, then don't think that way. I'm here for you, not for your experience," he nuzzles his head into your neck, silently biting and sucking on your skin.

"But, I'm just not ready for, you know," you reply and gently hold his face in front of yours. "Maybe next time," you give him a small smile and nod and he tilts his head.

"Who says I still can't make you feel good?" He smirks and you raise a brow in confusion.

"Tate I said I'm not ready to have sex," you decline whatever offer he's making and he rolls his eyes.

"Trust me," he says and before you can reply he kisses you again. So many thoughts swirl in your head, questioning what he meant and what he was going to do. Part of you wants to trust him but you feel a bit scared as you wonder what he implied. Is this just a way to manipulate you into believing everything he's saying. Is this what he did to Violet? He continues kissing you and you kiss him back in a way to egg him on so you could figure out what he was going to do. Until his hands trail down your sides to the elastic band on your pajama pants. 

"What are you-" you try to ask but he kisses your neck in such a way that makes you moan and writhe underneath him. "Tate," you practically gasp as he slides your pants down to your mid-thigh along with your panties. The feeling of the cold air hitting your skin causes you to shiver and he grins against your chest.  He tugs your tank top down a bit, showing off your cleavage and he rests his head between your breasts, kissing and biting all the right places. Your face heats up; a strong shade of red spreads across your cheeks as he massages your thighs. 

Your hands fly up to tug at his hair when he slowly slides his hand down to cup your womanhood. "So wet," he chuckles, licking across your collarbone and causing you to raise your hips toward his touch. "You gotta be quiet for me, okay?" He asks and you desperately nod, waiting for what he's going to do. He lowers himself even more and tugs your clothes off, leaving you in just your tank top. You felt a bit strange just being in one article of clothing so you decide to pull it off over your head, exposing your breasts. The feeling of him kissing your pussy makes you sit up at the unfamiliar sensation.

"Woah, wait," you say and he quickly gives you a lick, his tongue wide and flat. "Fuck," a moan escapes your lips and he shushes you, gesturing to the open bedroom door. "Tate, I need to shut the door," before you can get up to close it, he sucks and flicks his tongue on your clit. "Tate," you whimper, pulling his curly blond hair. "What if she wakes up and sees us," you somehow let out in just a whisper as he continues his tongue's movement. With a loud sucking noise, he lets go and gives you a mischievous grin.

"That just makes it so much more exciting." Immediately he goes back, picking up his speed and making you squeal. He snakes an arm up to your chest, playing with your right nipple with his thumb and pointer finger. With one of your hands still in his hair, your right hand covers his hand and he moans on your sex, making you silently moan in return. Within a few seconds, you start to reach your peak. He chuckles as your thighs wrap around him and he inserts a finger, making you climax and unravel underneath him. The aftershocks make you jolt and shake, making him grin at his successful attempt at making you feel good. He crawls back up your body and kisses you gently this time, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. But then you start to feel guilty that you don't know how to make him feel how he just made you feel. "What's wrong?" He asks, noticing your kisses get sloppy as you're in thought.

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to, like, do that for you," you mumble which makes him smile.

"You don't have to. Go to sleep," he kisses your forehead and you nod, resting your head on his chest after he pulls a blanket on top of you. But before you fall sleep, you realize he's manipulated you, just like Violet said he would.


End file.
